


Terra Firma

by rotaryphones



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cedric Diggory Lives, Closeted Character, Firenze | Florence, HP: EWE, Italy, M/M, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Post-War, Tourism, harry is a flight attendant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2009-03-26
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotaryphones/pseuds/rotaryphones
Summary: Years after the war, the last place Harry expected to see Cedric was on a plane headed to Florence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story that I recently decided is decent enough to be archived.
> 
> I don't know where the idea of flight attendant Harry came from, but I swear it's not as weird as it sounds! Descriptions of Florence are based on a semester spent there—apologies if there's anything not quite accurate.
> 
> Thank you to the most excellent nagi_schwarz for the beta and the cursory britpick.

It was nothing like _real_ flying. Flying was supposed to be liberating, weightless, with the wind stinging his face and the ground dropping off beneath him. Flying was exhilarating.  
  
This, however, was just work.  
  
Not that being in a plane didn’t have its charm. The first time Harry had flown the muggle way he did find something exciting about the rumble of the huge engines and the disorienting sensation of leaving the ground. His first muggle flight had been shortly after the war as a favor to Mr. Weasley, who had spent the entire time badgering him with questions he couldn’t answer.  
  
In fact, Harry still couldn’t answer them, even though those questions were now a part of his job. He had no clue how the angle of a wing could lift limitless mass into the air. All he had to know as a flight attendant were the emergency procedures and how to deal with drunk, belligerent passengers.  
  
He stood at the back of the cabin, overseeing the scramble for overhead space. It was late January, and the abundance of overcoats meant less room for luggage. He had to intervene several times, convincing one woman that her coat would not get ruined under the seat in front of her.  
  
Admittedly, “flight attendant” had not been Harry’s first choice of career, but the job had seemed apt at the time. Harry had wanted to get away from the wizarding world for a while, though he had no special fondness for the muggle one, and he thought it would be nice to travel the world he’d saved but never seen. Besides, there weren’t many muggle jobs he could land with nothing more than a secondary school equivalent diploma and a few years at a joke shop. The latter he managed to pass off as “customer service.” George, as a huge favor, had carried around a mobile for weeks just so Harry could use him as a reference.  
  
And now here he was, seven years after the war, demonstrating to muggles the proper method of fastening their seatbelts.  
  
When Harry initially had the idea to apply for the job, Hermione didn’t think he could pull off the calm cheerfulness that was required. She was certain he would snap at the first passenger who gave him lip. But with everything Harry had been through, a little rudeness just rolled off his back; it wasn't as though the insults were ever personal. He wasn’t much known for being a conflict mediator, but he did have a reputation for keeping a cool head in an emergency.  
  
Once the passengers were seated and the aisles checked, Harry found his own seat and strapped himself in for takeoff. He opened his copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ , a book he probably would have read years ago had he attended a non-magical school. He was enjoying it so far; Holden was a snarky bastard, and Harry felt a bit of kinship despite the difference in place and time. It seemed strange that a book like this would actually be required reading in a class, and he was reminded once again how out of touch with the muggle world he’d become.  
  
His opportunity for reading didn’t last long. Shortly after takeoff, Melissa hurried up to him down the aisle and said, “We have a first-timer in 7C. Can you take care of him? I have to ready the drink cart.”  
  
“Sure thing,” Harry replied and stored the book for later.  
  
As he approached from behind, Harry could see that the passenger in 7C was a tall male, tightly gripping the armrest that faced the aisle. Even if Melissa hadn’t told him the seat number, he would have figured it out. The man was identifiable by the whites of his knuckles alone, and the fact that everyone in the area was casting him sidelong glances. Harry came around the side of his seat and knelt down, putting on his best look of concern.  
  
“How are we doing, sir? Is there anything –“  
  
Surprise stole the end of his sentence.  
  
 _“Diggory?”_  
  
He found it impossible to believe, but there was no mistaking those unnatural good looks. Cedric Diggory, his former schoolmate and fellow Champion, was sitting in seat 7C, on an _aeroplane_ , looking utterly terrified.  
  
Harry wasn’t sure what to say. They hadn’t spoken since the tournament, after Cedric had changed his mind at the last moment and tricked Harry into taking the cup alone. After he had returned from the graveyard, Harry had had no patience for Cedric’s continued apologies. What could have become a friendship had fallen by the wayside.  
  
But now, all polite awkwardness was sidestepped when Cedric grabbed Harry’s arm in place of the armrest and hissed, “Harry, this is _nothing_ like flying!”  
  
Harry couldn’t help grinning just a bit, even though they were now getting some very strange looks. “No kidding. You can relax – it’s all perfectly safe. I’ve been on one of these things almost every day for the past year and a half, so you can trust me on that.”  
  
Cedric took a deep breath and, realizing he still had a hold on Harry’s arm, released it. “You know, I’ve faced a dragon and a war, and this is possibly the most frightening thing I’ve ever done.” He chuckled nervously while Harry glanced around, hoping the muggles took that as a figure of speech. “How do they do it, anyway? How the hell does it stay _up?”_  
  
Harry gave his usual response. “I could explain it, but that doesn’t mean either of us would understand it. All I can say is that they know what they’re doing.”  
  
Cedric seemed mostly pacified by Harry’s assurance, although he still looked skeptical. “So all that shaking was normal?”  
  
“Perfectly normal.”  
  
“And the noises?”  
  
“All standard noises.”  
  
“What about all that stuff in the beginning about ‘emergency landings’ and ‘oxygen masks?’”  
  
“Just cautionary protocol. You know, just in case. But you really don’t have to know that stuff unless something unexpected happens, and it won’t.”  
  
Cedric gave a half smile. “I suppose I didn’t need to memorize that card in the seat pocket, then?”  
  
Harry let out a laugh. “No. Probably not.” He rose from his crouching position and glanced around at the nosy parkers who were now openly staring.  
  
Cedric, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, looking a bit more at ease. “They really know how to scare a bloke, then. I never imagined that flying in an aeroplane could be such an ordeal.”  
  
“Well _I_ never imagined I’d see a –“ Harry barely managed to censor himself “– a bloke like yourself on one of my planes. Listen, I have to go help with the drink cart, but I’ll come back and check on you, all right?”  
  
“Thanks, Harry.” Cedric laughed again. “Merlin, I feel like a little kid or something.”  
  
Harry winced at the wizarding-specific oath, but Cedric didn’t seem to know any better. Hopefully he’d come off as eccentric and nothing more. It was amusing to think of Cedric Diggory, Mr. Perfect, as being eccentric, but then again he was way out of his element here. Harry was dying to know why Cedric was on a plane in the first place, but he really did have work to do, and he curbed his curiosity for the time being.  
  
The plane hit some mild turbulence about halfway through the trip, and the crew walked around urging people back to their seats. Harry made sure to stop by Cedric’s seat to convince him it wasn’t the end of the world – not an easy task. Although Cedric was extremely brave for a Hufflepuff, even at seventeen, bravery had little to do with trust. Purebloods rarely trusted muggle ingenuity even if they had no problem with muggles themselves. Arthur Weasley was an exception to that, but even he had been nervous throughout his flight.  
  
Unfortunately, what with the turbulence and other minor emergencies, Harry didn’t get the chance to talk with Cedric until the plane was descending. He stopped by row seven one last time to tell Cedric what to expect, then returned to his own seat in the back. It was a smooth landing, and everyone applauded. Harry hated it when everyone applauded. There was no reason for anyone but Cedric to act impressed that the plane had arrived in one piece.  
  
Melissa reached over to pick up the microphone. “On behalf of our airline, we would like to say welcome and _benvenuto_ to Florence. The local time is 5:28 PM, and the temperature is seven degrees. Please remain seated until the pilot has turned off the 'fasten your seatbelt' sign, and make sure you’ve left nothing behind when you leave the plane. Enjoy your stay, and we hope you’ll fly with us again.”  
  
She and Harry moved to the entrance of the plane to bid the passengers farewell as they left, wearing the smiles that were part of their uniform.  
  
When Cedric made his way to the front, Harry pulled him out of line so he could give a proper farewell. To his surprise, Cedric looked just as terrified as he had at the start of the flight.  
  
“Are you okay?” Harry asked.  
  
“Yeah, fine,” said Cedric unconvincingly. “Do you – are you still working? Or are you heading back to England right away?”  
  
“Actually, I’m free to go as soon as everyone leaves and I’m out of uniform. We have a 36-hour layover in Florence, which is longer than usual. I think we’re staying at a hotel by the airport. Why? Did you want to get drinks or something?”  
  
“Er, no. I mean, yeah that sounds great, just…” Cedric ran a nervous hand through his hair. There were a lot of people pushing past to exit the plane, and Cedric suddenly seemed to notice he was in the way. He was certainly distracted about something. “Will you be off work soon? Could I talk to you where there aren’t so many people?”  
  
“Er, sure. I only get paid while the plane’s in the air, so I’ll be out of here in no time. Do you want to wait for me by the baggage claim?”  
  
“Baggage claim?”  
  
“Oh, it’s where you pick up the luggage you checked,” Harry explained.  
  
Cedric just gave him a quizzical look and patted his pocket. “Everything I need’s right here.”  
  
Right. Wizard. And everything was so shrunken, there probably wasn’t even enough metal to set off the detectors. Harry would have to remember that trick. “Well, just follow everyone else. You’ll show your passport to customs, then there’ll be a station where people are picking up their suitcases; you can wait for me there.”  
  
“Thanks Harry,” Cedric said, relieved, as though Harry had already done him a huge favor. As Cedric followed the other passengers into the terminal, Harry wondered if he even _had_ a passport.  
  
Harry finished his shift as quickly as possible and excused himself from his coworkers to go and find Cedric. He was waiting by the luggage carousel as instructed, at a distance from everyone else, his own luggage already expanded. He stared at the conveyer belt but his mind was clearly elsewhere.  
  
“So, tell me,” Harry said as he approached, “you do have a passport, yeah?”  
  
Cedric startled, then fished around in his pocket. “Do you want to see it? It’s the first muggle picture I’ve ever had taken of me, only it’s bloody awful. I don’t think faces are meant to be still.” He handed to Harry a perfectly legitimate passport, much to Harry’s surprise. The photo was rather unflattering, but it had more to do with the head-on flash than anything else.  
  
“I’m impressed,” Harry said, giving it back. “Most wizards wouldn’t be able to work out the bureaucracy of airports, let alone work up the courage to actually get on a plane. What are you doing flying to Italy anyway?”  
  
Pocketing the passport again, Cedric shifted uncomfortably. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.” His eyes wandered back to the people retrieving their luggage. “How did the suitcases get there?”  
  
Harry was in no rush to be anywhere, so he humored Cedric’s change of topic. “They were with us on the plane. Baggage handlers drove them to the baggage claim as soon as we landed.”  
  
“That’s clever,” Cedric said, sounding surprised.  
  
“Yeah, well, muggles typically are. I guess they’ve had to be, to compensate.”  
  
Cedric nodded. “That makes sense.” He turned to Harry once more and asked, “Is it hard living like a muggle?”  
  
“Not once you get used to it,” said Harry with a shrug. “I mean, we all grew up without doing magic, right?”  
  
“Yeah, but my mum always did magic _for_ me when I was little.” Cedric sighed, finally coming back to Harry’s initial question. “I’m here visiting my grandmother. Er, she’s a muggle. That’s why I flew here instead of just catching a portkey. It’s not that she dislikes magic, she’s just sort of … uncomfortable around it.” The way Cedric was looking suspiciously around the airport, Harry wanted to point out that _he_ was probably just as uncomfortable around muggles as _she_ was around magic.  “At least, that’s all according to my dad. I’ve never actually met her.”  
  
“Oh. So she’s your dad’s mum, then?”  
  
“No, my mum’s.” Cedric’s eyes fell to the ground. “My mum, er, she – died during the war.”  
  
Harry’s gut clenched. If his mum was muggleborn, he didn’t have to ask why she died. Harry hated this, hated that he had been so _absent_ during the war, and that after all these years he still didn’t know the full death count. It made it near impossible to move past the guilt. “I’m sorry, Cedric.”  
  
“It’s not your fault.” Why did they always tell him that? “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to make this trip since the war ended, but I kept putting it off. Then my grandfather died last summer of a heart attack. So I decided I’d better meet my grandmother while I still had the chance.”  
  
“Is she meeting you here?”  
  
“Yeah, she’s probably looking for me right now…” Cedric trailed off, then turned to Harry with pleading eyes. “Will you come meet her with me? I know it sounds childish, but – I’d _really_ appreciate the support.”  
  
Is that what this was all about? “Er, yeah. I can do that.”  
  
“Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?”  
  
“No, that’s fine. As long as you’re sure you want me there.”  
  
“Yes. Definitely yes.” It looked as though a weight had been lifted from Cedric’s shoulders, and he smiled in gratitude. “I really appreciate this. She’s supposed to be wearing a green coat, so if you see anyone who looks like they might be related…”  
  
They walked together to the baggage claim exit, where a crowd of people stood waiting for their loved ones. “Is that her?” Harry asked, nodding towards the back of a woman in an olive pea coat.  
  
Cedric swallowed. “One way to find out.”  
  
They picked through the crowd, making their way towards her. After taking a deep breath, Cedric tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Pardon me…”   
  
The woman spun around and lifted a hand to her mouth. There was no mistaking the resemblance, although she seemed young to be a grandmother. She had brown hair shot through with gray, which framed a pair of brown eyes, identical to Cedric’s in everything but color.  
  
“Cedric,” she cried before pulling him into an embrace. Cedric hugged her back as a mix of emotions crossed his face. She pulled away and held him at arm’s length, studied his face and said, “The last pictures I have of you are from when you were 16. I can’t believe how you’ve grown.”  
  
“You have pictures of me? Did mum send you those?”  
  
“Yes, I’ll have to show you when we get back to the house. You’re even more handsome in real life.” She grinned, and then finally noticed Harry awkwardly standing nearby, watching the reunion.  
  
Cedric placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is my friend, Harry. I just happened to run into him; he works for the aeroplane.”  
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry,” she said, offering her hand.  
  
“I’m glad to meet you too, Mrs…?”  
  
“Please, both of you, call me Alida. Will you be in Florence long?”  
  
“Only for a day. I fly back to London early Friday morning.”  
  
“Do you have a place to stay? I have an extra bed you could sleep in. That is, if Cedric doesn’t mind.”  
  
Harry was about to refuse, explain that the airline already covered room and board in a decent enough hotel, but he caught sight of Cedric’s expression. His wide eyes were just begging Harry to accept. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble?”  
  
“No, no trouble at all! I’d be happy for the extra company, and I’m sure Cedric would be too.”  
  
That was an understatement. Cedric seemed thrilled about this turn of events, and whispered thank you’s to Harry all the way to his grandmother’s car, a tiny hatchback with a stick shift. Harry had only learned to drive two years ago, and had never driven stick, so he was certainly impressed as Alida switched from gear to gear, maneuvering through traffic with ease. Of course, this all went right over Cedric’s head. He probably assumed it was a standard muggle skill, like riding a bike.  
  
There was a bit of awkward small talk in the car, discussing Harry’s work for the airline and Cedric’s job at the Ministry. Alida explained that she taught secondary school English, while her husband had been an art history professor. That was why they had moved to Florence in the first place, shortly before her daughter’s marriage. She talked a bit about Florence, or _Firenze_ as she called it. She explained how in many ways the city was just as it had been during the Rennaisance, and was resistant to change, unlike the more modern cities of _Roma_ or _Milano_. There was apparently but one modern art museum in the entire city, and it was dedicated to but one artist, and she joked how even her husband, a Medieval and Renaissance art scholar, would sometimes long for a Picasso. She listed off the names of places they should visit, palaces and museums and cathedrals that were meaningless to Harry’s ears, and lamented Harry’s short stay. It was a lot to take in at once. As they approached Alida’s house, set in a very residential area on the far north end of Florence, she also pointed out the village of Fiesole situated on top of the hill nearby, as well as the nearest pizza parlor.  
  
Alida’s house was cozy and stylishly modern. The entire first floor was a single room with large glass doors that opened out onto a small backyard. A dinner table designated the dining area, and a small kitchen was set off from the rest of the space by sliding doors.  
  
Alida brought them up the stairs to show them their bedroom, a room that spanned the entire third floor. There was a bed on either side of the room, as well as an ensuite bathroom. Most exciting was the wrap-around balcony with a clear view of Fiesole and the Tuscan countryside.  
  
She excused herself to prepare dinner while she left the two of them to settle in.  
  
Harry claimed a bed and sat on it. “She seems like a sweet person.”  
  
“Yeah, she does,” Cedric said without conviction. “It’s just so _weird_ being here. I mean, what am I supposed to say to her? Everything in my life revolves around magic, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or anything.”  
  
“What makes you think she’d be uncomfortable? She doesn’t seem the type, really.”  
  
Cedric paused in removing his clothes from his suitcase. “The entire time I was talking about my job, did she once ask me to elaborate? She asked you all sorts of questions about the aeroplane. But as soon as I start talking about the Department for International Cooperation, she shuts up. It’s like she doesn’t want to know the details.” Cedric pulled out his wand and levitated his clothing into the open drawers. “I’m sure she’d like to pretend I’m negotiating between religious factions, not goblins and wizards.”  
  
Harry had actually noticed her silence as well. But he had also noticed Cedric’s own discomfort in talking about his work, and it would have been clear to anyone how heavily he was censoring himself. “Maybe she was uncomfortable about it because you seemed uncomfortable, too.”  
  
“Well, of _course_ I’m uncomfortable!” Cedric shouted, dropping onto the bed. “I’m expected to live for an _entire week_ as a muggle in a foreign country!” He rested his head in one hand and sighed. “I don’t know how you do it. I feel like I have to watch my every move. And I’m probably making loads of mistakes I’m not even aware of. Do you know how much research it took just to buy a week’s worth of muggle clothing?” He gestured to his outfit, a navy jumper and denims. Harry hadn’t even noticed the clothes, which was probably a measure of Cedric’s success.  
  
“You look good, though,” Harry said.  
  
Cedric blushed. “Er, thanks. I’m just not sure if I can survive the week.”  
  
“Hey, you’ve only just got here; give it some time. After a few days, I’m sure you’ll both be more comfortable around each other. Think of it … as being a tourist.”  
  
Cedric smiled weakly. “I’ve always hated being a tourist.” He stood up to manually close the drawers, then spent a few moments exploring their room. Harry had to explain that the bidet in the bathroom was more of an Italian thing than a muggle one, and Cedric seemed scandalized when he learned its use – much to Harry’s amusement.  
  
“What, you mean you wouldn’t like to freshen up before dinner?” Harry asked.  
  
Cedric rolled his eyes. “Come on, we should probably get back downstairs.”  
  
The smell of cooking greeted them as they made their way down the narrow staircase. They sat on the couch for a while and talked as Alida finished the meal, mostly catching up from their schooldays. By the time they finally sat down to eat it was late, almost 8:30, but Alida insisted that was standard Italian dinnertime.  
  
As they ate, Alida gave them suggestions for tomorrow’s sightseeing, all the while bringing dish after dish to the table. She was a wonderful cook. The pasta was delicious, and Harry nearly filled up on that alone, not realizing there would be a second course of pork to follow. By the end of the meal, he was filled to bursting. He sat back in his seat feeling sated and spoiled, thinking of his coworkers who were probably eating hotel food.  
  
The conversation lulled, and Alida suddenly pushed back from the table. “I almost forgot, Cedric, I wanted to show you those photos.” She walked over to a cabinet on the far wall and retrieved an album from inside. She handed it to Cedric, who solemnly accepted the artifact. He opened to the first page. Harry watched his eyes widen in shock.  
  
“They’re muggle,” he said, before he could catch himself.  
  
Alida stiffened, but didn’t look surprised by the word. “I told her once I found the moving photographs a little unnerving, so your mother always sent me the normal kind instead. I understand the difference is in how they’re developed?”  
  
But Cedric didn’t answer. He was too busy taking in the still images before him, looking more and more distressed with every page. At one point, he stopped and pointed at one of the photos with a shaky finger.  
  
“We have this photo,” he said, his voice small. “Framed over the mantle. A moving version. I’ve never seen it still …”  
  
He stared at it for a while, reaching out to almost touch it, like it was something grotesque from which he couldn’t turn away. Then, abruptly, he slammed the book shut, handing it back to Alida. Without a word, she returned it to the cabinet.  
  
“You’re both probably tired,” she said. “Why don’t you get to bed while I clean up?”  
  
“Let me help,” Harry offered, but Alida shooed him away, casting anxious glances at Cedric instead. Harry caught the implication, and followed Cedric back up the staircase.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked, once they were both in the room.  
  
“Yeah.” Cedric sat on the bed, and brought his knees up to his chest. “No. I don’t know.”  
  
Harry was no good at comforting and stood there awkwardly, waiting for Cedric to speak again.  
  
“It was just a bit of a shock, seeing my mum like that. She was so … _still_. I’m so used to her waving at me in that picture; it wasn’t right with her just standing there. She looked…” Cedric paused and shook his head. “It wasn’t right,” he repeated.  
  
Feeling the need to do _something_ , Harry moved to sit next to Cedric on the bed. He thought maybe he should be rubbing his back, or giving a hug, but instead settled on patting his knee. Cedric smiled appreciatively; feeling bolstered, Harry decided to offer that hug after all. Cedric was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around him, his tensed muscles relaxing slightly in the embrace.  
  
“I’m really glad you’re here, Harry,” he said when he pulled away. “You don’t know how much this means to me. I think I’d be having a nervous breakdown otherwise.”  
  
Harry shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I’m happy to be here. And your grandmother’s a fantastic cook, so I think I should be thanking _you_ , really.”  
  
A smile made its way across Cedric’s face. “She is, isn’t she? Merlin, the pasta was delicious!”  
  
“Oh yeah, that reminds me; just so you know, muggles don’t say ‘Merlin.’”  
  
“Oh shit, really?” Cedric looked upset for just a moment, then started laughing. “Actually, that sort of makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it? Wow, I feel thick.”  
  
Harry grinned. “It’s an understandable mistake.”  
  
They dressed for bed, Cedric going into the bathroom to do so, then slipped under their respective covers.  
  
“’Night, Harry.”  
  
“Goodnight, Cedric.”  
  
And Cedric extinguished the lights with a whispered, “ _Nox.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The links in the next few chapters are for visual reference, in case my descriptions fall short. Thank you again to nagi_schwarz, beta and britpicker extraordinaire. Also, my sincerest apologies to Brunelleschi.

From the top tier of the [bell tower](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/69/CampanileGiotto-01.jpg), all of Florence stretched out before them.  Winding streets made patterns among the red brick roofs, and to the south, the Arno River cut across the panorama.  
  
Having raced to the top, Harry and Cedric were still too winded to enjoy any of this properly.  Cedric had won, but just barely; Harry blamed it on Cedric’s longer legs.  They spent a few moments on the stone floor catching their breath while the few other tourists nearby rolled their eyes.  
  
This was their first stop of the day, as suggested by Alida.  She had marked [the Duomo](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4f/Duomo_Firenze.jpg) on their maps, assuring them it was impossible to miss – and she had been right.  The main cathedral of Florence floated like a green and white marble cloud over the nearby buildings, its brick dome visible from almost every street.  Harry and Cedric hadn’t been inside the main structure yet, opting instead for the _campanile_ that promised this spectacular view.  
  
Harry stood up first, leaning over the edge to gauge their height.  The piazza below was swarming with activity, and not just from tourists stopping to take photos.  A majority of the bustle came from native Italians walking past the Duomo as though the behemoth structure were disillusioned.  
  
Cedric stood up next to him, peering out instead of down.  “Wow,” he said simply.  He stared at the horizon for a few moments, then pointed and asked, “That hill over there, is that Fiesole?”  
  
“And what’s that?” Harry asked, locating the same hill.  
  
“That’s where we’re staying.  Remember?  Alida told us we were right at the base of Fiesole.”  
  
“Huh.  I guess.  I didn’t realize we were so far.”  
  
“Well, we did have to take a long bus ride to get here.”  
  
“Really?  It didn’t feel that long,” said Harry.  
  
Alida had provided both of them with a handful of bus tickets, then carefully explained the procedure.  Italian buses operated almost entirely on the honor system; one was expected to time stamp the ticket once on board, even though there was little enforcement.  But Alida had warned them that surprise checks did occur periodically, and advised against trying to cheat the system.  The bus ride had been their first glimpse at the bustling, cobbled city center, and Harry had spent the whole time with his nose to the window.  
  
They moved to another side of the square tower, the one that looked out over the back of the cathedral.  Cedric gestured to the dome.    
  
“I remember learning about that.  It was designed by Brunelleschi.  It was the largest dome in the world at the time, the first octagonal dome built without any sort of support structure since it was too far off the ground for scaffolding.  Only he couldn’t quite figure it out, so he had to hire a wizard from Rome, Francesco Cupelli, to help.  Cupelli found a way of supporting the dome with magic while the workers laid the bricks.  Then, of course, Brunelleschi went ahead and took all the credit.”  
  
Harry had to admit he was impressed.  “How do you know all of this?”  
  
“I actually paid attention in History,” replied Cedric with a smirk.  “Actually, for a while I considered becoming an historian.”  
  
“So what changed your mind?”  
  
Cedric paused, resting his forearms on the ledge.  It was chilly enough for his breath to come out in little visible puffs of steam.  “The war,” he said.  “I still think history’s fascintating, and I think it’s important, but I realized I wanted to have more of an impact.  A short-term impact.  So I finally did what my dad kept nudging me to do; I joined the Ministry.”  He tilted his head so he could look at Harry.  “What about you?  Why aeroplanes?  I remember everyone said you were going to become an Auror.”  
  
“What can I say?”  Harry shrugged, not meeting Cedric’s gaze.  “It was the war for me, too.  Before that, an Auror was the only job I ever wanted.  But – I reckon I had the opposite reaction from you.  I felt like I was being given too much power.  I didn’t want it anymore.  I had gone around carrying so much responsibility for so long, I thought I owed it to myself to get away from it for a while.  It’s not a long term career, or anything.”  
  
“But why aeroplanes?”  
  
At that, Harry grinned.  “Well, for one thing, it’s one of the few places the press won’t follow me.  I _usually_ don’t run into wizards on planes.”  
  
Cedric nudged his shoulder and said, “Aren’t you glad I’m not like most wizards, then?”  
  
“Please,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.  “You wouldn’t have been on that plane if you could have avoided it.”  
  
“Who, _me?_   A seeker?  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I _love_ to fly.”  
  
“Oh yeah?”  Harry raised his eyebrows.  “Let’s see how fast you can fly down those stairs!”  
  
It was probably not the brightest idea to race down 600-year-old stone steps, all set at awkward heights and worn smooth by hundreds of years’ worth of feet, but Harry and Cedric took them as fast as possible, laughing and whooping like school kids.  This time Harry won.  
  
Cedric seemed a lot more relaxed than yesterday, and Harry was finding it easy to ignore the ten-year gap in their friendship.  Maybe it was because Cedric had never treated him like he was larger than life, or maybe it was because their reunion had occurred under such unusual circumstances.  Either way, Harry was enjoying their time together.  He was having much more fun than he would have with the rest of the crew.  
  
Their next stop was through the tall arches of the Duomo itself.  Harry had the same feeling he did stepping into the tent at the Quidditch World Cup, that the interior was larger than the exterior.  Here there was no magic involved, just an illusion caused by the skeleton of columns that held up the structure.  Or maybe it was easier to wrap his head around the size once he was inside.  The interior was actually rather plain compared to the exterior’s ornate façade, and the murals on the dome’s underbelly were too distant to fully appreciate.  They wandered around the cavernous space for a few minutes, then moved on.  
  
Across from the cathedral’s entrance stood the baptistery, and Cedric eagerly gestured for Harry to step closer.  They both approached the gold doors, which were divided into ten biblical scenes, each sculpted with great depth and subtle detail.  Cedric made a sweeping motion with his hand and said, “[The Gates of Paradise](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d9/Florenca146.jpg).”  
  
“Come again?”  
  
“That’s what the doors are called.  The Gates of Paradise.  There was a competition for who could sculpt the most beautiful doors, and it was between Ghiberti and Brunelleschi.  Ghiberti won.”  Cedric jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the cathedral behind them.  “But Brunelleschi went on to do that.”  
  
“Again, how do you know all this?”  
  
“I did some research before I came here.  This was a scheduled vacation for me, don’t forget.”  
  
Harry regarded Cedric over the top of his glasses.  “Meaning you’re just as big a swot now as you were back in school.”  
  
Cedric laughed.  “Yep.  Some things never change.”  
  
Lunch that day was overpriced pizza near the Duomo, and it wasn’t even particularly good.  The cheese and sauce were tasty, with a slight twist in flavor that Harry wasn't used to, but the dough it sat on was flat and dry.  Cedric, bless his heart, had never had pizza before, so of course he found it incredible.  Harry insisted they could do better, and promised to take Cedric out for the best pizza in London once they were back home.  
  
They only had one last stop planned for the day, so they took their time wandering the streets of Florence, taking in their surroundings.  At one point, they stumbled across a small craft market in one of the piazzas, where vendors sold jewelry, scarves, and any number of handmade items.  Cedric tried to talk Harry into buying a necklace with a lightning-shaped charm made of Venetian glass, but Harry didn’t find that quite as amusing as Cedric seemed to.  He did end up getting a simple, elegant ring for Hermione and a pair of fingerless gloves for Ron.  
  
They finally made their way to the Accademia Gallery, bought tickets, and walked right inside.  According to Alida, this museum had a line around the block during tourist season; there was a definite advantage to sightseeing in the winter.  The Accademia was cross-shaped liked a cathedral, making the walk towards the back of the building feel almost like a pilgrimage.  Except, instead of an altar, it was Michaelangelo’s [David](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d5/David_von_Michelangelo.jpg) that stood in its place.  
  
Neither Harry nor Cedric needed much muggle art education to recognize the statue, but there was a difference between seeing it on a page and seeing it in person.  Harry had had no concept before of the sculpture’s _size_.  David was larger than life, more of a Goliath himself than the unlikely boy who defeated him.  His slingshot was slung casually over his shoulder, and he had the posture of one completely at ease.  
  
Harry could feel that Cedric was watching him.  “You know, supposedly David was just a kid when he fought Goliath.”  
  
“He doesn’t look that young here,” Harry replied instead of acknowledging the parallel.  
  
The two of them slowly walked around the sculpture, taking it in from all angles, including David’s backside.  Harry had to admit he had a nice arse – nicer than some of his other features.  Feeling intentionally childish as they came back to the front, Harry couldn’t help pointing out, “He’s a bit small, isn’t he?”  
  
Cedric didn’t get it at first.  “Small?  What are you talking about?  He’s huge.”  
  
Harry grinned, giving Cedric his best double entendre look, and suddenly Cedric got it.  Harry could tell because Cedric blushed so hard he looked like he’d come down with a fever.  
  
“I suppose I understand, though,” Harry continued, relishing in making Cedric uncomfortable.  Some wizards were far too prudish.  “Facing a giant must have been terrifying.  Not exactly conducive to looking one’s best.”  
  
“Harry, come on…” Cedric protested.  
  
Harry ignored him, and put on a contemplative look.  “Although I heard Michaelangelo was gay, so I’m surprised he wasn’t a bit more generous.”  
  
Suddenly, Cedric’s blush was gone, and instead he went completely pale.  If Harry hadn’t been looking for a reaction, he may have missed the way Cedric’s muscles tensed, his stiffened posture in direct contrast to David’s slouch.  
  
Well, _that_ was interesting.  From experience, Harry found a reaction like that meant one of two things: either Cedric was homophobic, or he was gay.  And since many homophobic men were really just afraid of themselves, both possibilities usually came back to the same conclusion in the end.  
  
One thing Harry had learned about being a flight attendant was that relationships were very difficult to maintain.  The unpredictable schedules, not to mention being away from home for extended periods of time, were a strain on any partner after a while.  Some of his coworkers could make it work.  Others just tried to get some wherever they could.  Harry was always on the lookout for something more permanent, but he usually fell into the latter category, and being bisexual helped widen the pool.  
  
Standing with a mortified Cedric Diggory in front of a very nude male statue, Harry couldn’t help entertaining the possibility of a fling.  Cedric was beyond fit; that went without saying.  But Harry had written him off as unavailable, naively assuming that perfect Diggory would be perfectly straight.  Of course, he might still be straight; Harry could be getting his signals wrong.  Maybe Cedric really was that prudish and nothing more.  It was a pity Harry was only staying in Florence for a single day, because otherwise he would have more time to find out.  
  
Cedric caught him staring and rolled his eyes in an attempt to regain his composure.  “Are you done?  What are you, twelve or something?”  
  
Harry just gave what he hoped was a disarming smile.  “Yes, I’m done.  Unless you have some insight about David’s prick you’d like to add?”  
  
“Er, no.  I think you pretty much covered it.”  
  
Cedric stalked off to explore the other areas of the museum, while Harry secretly compared his arse to David’s.  Definitely a shame this was his only day in the city.  
  
***  
  
They arrived back at Alida’s house around five o’clock.  Dinner wouldn’t be for another few hours, but Alida typically arrived home from work by four thirty.  Cedric wanted to make sure he spent some quality time with her, not just the city, even though he was still a bit unsure about their relationship.  They all sat down together on her couch.  Over cups of hot tea, Harry and Cedric began telling her about their day.  
  
She threw in some information they hadn’t known, explaining that the Gates of Paradise they had seen were actually replicas to protect the originals, and how a crazy person had attacked the David several years ago, damaging the toes of his left foot.  After a while, the conversation turned from Florence to Cedric; Alida asked him what he thought of Italy, then asked about his hobbies, how his father’s job was going, and how they were both getting along.  When they began sharing stories of Cedric’s mother from before the war, Harry took that as his cue to leave.  
  
Claiming he had to make a few calls to the airline, he excused himself and retreated up the stairs.  It wasn’t a complete lie; he had to call a cab to take him to the airport early tomorrow morning for his flight home.  He also called his boss to let her know he hadn’t disappeared down one of Florence’s cobbled alleyways.  
  
Once that was out of the way, he retrieved his book from his bag, lay back on his bed, and picked up where he’d left off.  Cedric and Alida must have had a long conversation, and Harry was grateful that they hadn’t felt the need to go looking for him.  He read through fifty pages before Cedric came up to tell him that dinner was ready.  
  
Dinner was something called _gnudi_ , so named because it was essentially “nude” ravioli – balls of ricotta and spinach without the pasta.  Served with a red sauce, it was just as delicious as the night before.  Harry felt spoiled and made sure to say so.  
  
Both Cedric and Alida were all smiles during the meal, so Harry supposed the getting-to-know-you conversation had gone well.  He was glad of it.  Alida seemed like a wonderful grandmother to have, and he wanted Cedric to appreciate that.  After all, Harry had his surrogate parents in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but he had never had anything like a grandmother.  Plus, Cedric had a downright radiant smile when he was in a good mood, and Harry wanted to see more of that.  It changed the atmosphere of the whole house.  
  
For dessert, Alida served pears soaked in wine.  Coupled with the wine they had had with their meal, Harry was already beginning to feel comfortably warm and sleepy.  He and Cedric offered to clean up before they went to bed, but Alida was stubborn.  
  
“No, of course not.  You’re my guests.  And Harry, you need to get some sleep if you’re leaving so early tomorrow morning.”  
  
“Don’t worry about me,” Harry insisted.  “I’m used to operating on very little sleep.”  
  
“Besides,” Cedric added, “it’ll be much faster if we do it.”  
  
Alida just shook her head and waved her hand.  “It’s okay, boys, I don’t need the help.  I have my own particular way of doing things, and I assure you it’s very fast.”  
  
“You know what I meant,” said Cedric.  The implication wasn’t lost on any of them.  Suddenly, the room seemed to have filled with tension.  
  
Alida looked at him for a long time, then sighed.  “Yes, I know what you meant.  You want to help out using magic.  But it’s really not necessary, Cedric.”  
  
“I didn’t say it was _necessary_.  I said I wanted to.”  
  
After a moment’s hesitation, Alida said, “All right.  But just this once.  I don’t want you doing my chores for me while you’re visiting.  And please, just – be careful with the dishes.”  
  
Cedric pulled out his wand, and lifted a few dishes into the air; Harry followed suit.  Alida watched nervously, as though certain they wouldn’t make it to the sink in one piece.  If it had been Harry alone, she may have been right to worry, but Cedric clearly knew what he was doing, stacking the dishes into neat piles under the faucet.  Between the two of them, they had the table cleared in no time.  Cedric began casting scrubbing charms on the dirty plates.  
  
Harry was at a bit of a loss at this point.  There were a lot of basic household charms he had never learned, and since Kreacher still kept the house and did most of the cooking and cleaning, he’d never had to learn.  Cedric noticed his hesitation and grinned, handing Harry a cleaned plate.  
  
“Here, you can dry.  The spell is really simple – just a bit of a twist movement, and the incantation is _ashugo_.”  
  
It was an easy enough spell, and Harry picked it up with no problem.  They soon had a factory rhythm established between the two of them, the pile of dishes quickly transferring from the sink to the counter.  
  
Alida watched the whole process with interest from the kitchen doorway.  “You know, _asciutto_ is the Italian word for dry.”  
  
Cedric nodded.  “Most spells are based in latin, so that makes sense.  You’d probably recognize a lot of what we do.”  
  
“Can I see your wand?” she asked, hand outstretched.  Cedric passed it to her without hesitation, and she studied it for a moment, turning it over in her palm.  “It looks just like your mother’s.  Only –“  
  
“– shorter.  By two inches.”  
  
Alida handed it back, and Cedric put it away.  “Thank you for helping me clean, both of you.  Although you really should get to bed soon – especially you, Harry.  Do you need anything for tomorrow morning?”  
  
“No, I should be fine.  Thanks for everything.  It’s been wonderful staying here.”  
  
Alida stepped forward and gave him a warm hug, followed by a kiss on each cheek.  “It was a pleasure having you.  You’re welcome back any time, and I mean that.  Cedric said you fly to Italy on occasion, so don’t hesitate to stop by.”  
  
“Well, it’s not usually as long a stay as this one, but I’ll be happy to visit as soon as I get the chance.  Especially if it means more wonderful meals.”  
  
Cedric wished Alida goodnight as well, then followed Harry upstairs.  After changing into clothes to sleep in – and it didn’t escape Harry’s notice that Cedric once again escaped to the bathroom to do so – Harry quickly packed his suitcase, making sure he was all set for the morning.  
  
Before they drifted off into wine-induced sleep, Cedric thanked him one last time.  
  
“I know this whole situation has been a bit weird, but I’m glad you stuck around.  I had a really great time today.”  
  
“Me too.  We’ll have to get together sometime when we’re both back in London.”  
  
“Yeah, we should.  It’s a shame you couldn’t have stayed a bit longer.”  
  
Harry yawned and grinned against his pillow.  “Yeah.  That would have been nice.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the links are for visual reference. Thanks to the ever wonderful beta and britpicker, nagi_schwarz.

Harry awoke at three in the morning to the sound of his mobile ringing.  
  
Across the room, Cedric sat bolt upright in his bed and lit the end of his wand.  “What the hell is that?” he cried.  
  
Instead of answering him, Harry blindly reached for his phone and brought it to his ear.  “Hello?”  
  
“Hi Harry, sorry to wake you.”  
  
He immediately recognized the voice of Loriann, his boss.  “'S all right.  What’s going on?”  
  
“Unexpected blizzard in London.  The city’s all but shut down, and all flights have been cancelled until further notice.”  
  
“Do you know for how long?”  
  
“No idea.  All I know is that my life’s going to be hellish for the next day or three.  Listen, I heard you were staying with friends.  Do you need me to book you a hotel, or are you okay staying where you are?”  
  
Harry yawned and thought about it.  “I should be fine here.”  
  
“Good.  One less thing for me to worry about.  All right, I have to go and phone everyone else.  Get back to sleep, and I’ll be in touch.”  
  
Loriann hung up, and Harry replaced the mobile on the nightstand.  There was still light coming from Cedric’s wand.  “What was that all about?” Cedric asked.  
  
“No flight tomorrow,” Harry mumbled, already starting to drift.  “Blizzard in London.  Turn that light out?”  
  
Cedric quickly extinguished it, and it was only a moment before Harry dropped back to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Now that Harry would be staying in Florence for an extended period of unknown length, he was excited to tag along for more sightseeing.  
  
According to Cedric’s itinerary, Friday was the day for palaces.  They started at the [Palazzo Vecchio](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d7/Firenze-palazzovecchio.jpg), literally the “Old Palace,” which served as Florence’s town hall.  It had earned its name when the Medicis had moved to their _new_ palace, the Palazzo Pitti across the river.  The Palazzo Vecchio didn’t have any of the Duomo’s grace, but it was equally conspicuous against the Florentine skyline.  The bulk of the building was a fortress, immense and austere, with a thin tower that rose above the crenellations and pierced the sky.  
  
Inside, the Palazzo was a confusing maze of chambers and murals.  They guided themselves through great halls and small lavish bedrooms, stopping to read the plaques that described who lived where, or who painted the ceiling and what it meant.  Harry thought he’d have to translate some of the muggle concepts for Cedric, but it was Cedric who ended up explaining what an allegory was.  Harry kept forgetting that most of Florence dated back to before the Statute of Secrecy, and Cedric had a better head for history to begin with.  
  
Separating the old palace from the new was the Arno River.  To reach their next stop, Harry and Cedric crossed over a bridge with another uninspired name: the [Ponte Vecchio](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/39/PonteVecchioFirenze.jpg), or “Old Bridge.”  
  
“Those would look splendid on you,” Cedric joked as he pointed out a pair of gaudy gold earrings.  The Ponte Vecchio was not just a bridge, but also a touristy shopping destination.  It was lined on either side with small jewelry shops and other vendors, making it feel more like a busy side street than something suspended over water.  The jewelry, glinting from every storefront, was all rather extravagant.  Harry didn’t need to see the price tags to know a few of the necklaces probably cost more than his yearly paycheck.  
  
As they walked along, past the archways that opened onto a view of the river, something ahead caught Harry’s eye.  He stopped when they reached the store, peering into the glass with surprise.  It was good to know that he’d not lost his seeker’s skills over the years.  With all the shiny gold objects gleaming from every window, Harry had somehow managed to spot the one item that mysteriously resembled a golden snitch.  
  
He eagerly gestured to Cedric who had gone a few paces ahead.  Cedric doubled back, and when he saw what Harry was pointing to, he turned around and looked up and down the bridge with narrowed eyes.  Then he grinned.  
  
“Harry, watch the muggles.”  
  
Harry did as he was asked, although he didn’t see the relevance.  What did tourists have to do with a rogue snitch sitting in a muggle storefront?  None of the passers by were even sparing it a second glance.  
  
Harry shrugged.  “Cedric, I don’t–“  Then he saw it: the way the tourists’ attentions drifted from the store on Harry’s right to the store on Harry’s left, as though there were nothing in between.  Harry grinned as well.  The muggles weren’t sparing the snitch a second glance because they weren’t even seeing it in the first place.  
  
Harry and Cedric shared an excited, conspiratorial look, and then walked into the store.  
  
A bell tinkled overhead, and a voice came from the back room.  “Ciao, ciao!  Welcome!”  Harry looked around him with interest; now that they were inside, the store was unmistakably magic.  Framed paintings on the wall nodded cordially at their arrival, and a few of them pointed to their own price tags.  The display cases around them, in addition to jewelry, featured carved unicorns and hippogriffs that strutted about in tiny circles.  There were also a few more snitches that seemed to be for display rather than sport; one of them was even encrusted with jewels.  
  
An older man with graying hair and long robes stepped into the room and beamed.  “Let me guess.  American?”  
  
“English,” Cedric corrected.  
  
“Ah, then you are muggle born?”  
  
That question put Harry on edge.  “Not exactly.  Why?”  
  
The man gestured to their outfits and grinned.  “The English do not know how to dress muggle as well as the Americans.  But you look very convincing.”  
  
Harry relaxed a bit, while Cedric looked pleased that someone had finally noticed his effort.  
  
The man shook both their hands with enthusiasm.  “My name is Doimo.  It is a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
“You too.  I’m Cedric, and this is Harry.”  Harry waited for a spark of recognition to flash through Doimo’s eyes, but fortunately he didn’t react to the name, and didn’t immediately seek out the scar under Harry’s fringe.  There was no doubt that the Italians knew who he was, but it was nice to be in a country that had not been directly involved in the war.  He would have to ask Cedric not to mention his _full_ name if he could help it.  
  
“Cedric, Harry.  Welcome, welcome!  And how long are you in Firenze?”  
  
“I’m visiting for a week,” said Cedric, “but he’s only here for a few days.”  
  
“A few days?”  Doimo shook his head.  “That is no time at all.”  
  
“I’d stay longer if I could,” said Harry.  “It’s a beautiful city.”  
  
“Yes, she is.  I have been in this city for fifty years, and she has never changed.  She is always beautiful, no matter when you come.  So, how may I help you today?”  
  
Cedric turned his attention to the display case by which they were standing.  “Actually, I was wondering if you had any jewelry that a muggle might appreciate.  You know, something magical that a muggle could still use.”  
  
Doimo’s face clouded over for a moment.  “We have very strict laws here in Italy.  Who is this muggle you are thinking of?”  
  
“My grandmother,” Cedric explained.  “She lives here, so I wanted to buy her something she couldn’t buy herself,”  
  
“Ah, I see.  Family is not a problem.  Let me think.”  Doimo crossed the room in a few strides and opened one of the cases with a wave of his wand.  He spent a few moments muttering to himself before removing a gold necklace with an overlarge purple pendant.  “This is a very rare gem from Egypt, and it will give good luck to whoever wears it.  The charm is, ah – built-in, so it think it will work for muggles.”  
  
The necklace was ornate and ostentatious, and Harry had a difficult time imaging it around Alida’s neck.  Cedric immediately turned it down.  The next item Doimo removed from the case was a plain black ring.  “This looks simple,” Doimo explained, “but it works like a Secrecy Sensor.  If anyone lies to your grandmother, she will know.”  He leaned forward and added with a wink, “But it is not a good gift if you lie to your grandmother also.”  
  
Cedric looked at Harry and shrugged, but in Harry’s experience, Secrecy Sensors didn’t necessarily make the best gifts.  “I don’t know.  Those tend to work better in theory than practice.”  
  
Cedric agreed.  “Do you have anything else?”  
  
Doimo turned back to the case once more, muttering in Italian, and then suddenly he stood up straight.  “ _Ecco!_   Here it is.”  The necklace he held up to the light was a modest silver chain with a circular pendant, carved with an intricate design.  
  
“Are those runes?” Cedric asked.  
  
“Yes, they are.  Can you translate?”  
  
“Not well.”  Cedric peered closely at the necklace for a moment, then shook his head.  “Something about living and hope?”  
  
“Very good!” Doimo said, sounding impressed.  “It is an Italian proverb: _finchè c'è vita c'è speranza_.  It means, ‘where there is life, there is hope.’”  He tapped the side of the pendant with his wand, and the circle flipped open on invisible hinges.  “It is a locket that can only be opened by the owner.  I am showing it to you because she would not need to set the charm herself; you can do it for her.”  
  
Cedric took the necklace in his hand, gave a quick inspection, and then grinned up at Doimo.  “I think she’ll like that.”  
  
Doimo brought the necklace to the sales counter, placing it in an elegant box and using his wand to gift-wrap it.  Cedric, meanwhile, pulled a wallet from his coat pocket, and then hesitated.  
  
“Er, do you prefer galleons or euro?” he asked.  
  
“Both.  We also take pounds.”  
  
Cedric paid for the necklace, and then shrunk it down so he could store it next to his wallet.  “Can I ask you, are there other places like this one in Florence?  We’ve only seen muggle things so far.”  
  
Doimo pointed a knowing finger in the air.  “Ah, but even the muggle places have a magical history.  Have you been to the _cupola_ of the Duomo?  The dome?”  
  
“Yeah,” said Harry.  “We saw it from the bell tower.  Cedric explained about the wizard who helped construct it.”  
  
“No, no, it is not enough to see from the outside.  The walls of the _cupola_ are hollow; you need to climb _inside_.  When you do, if you know to look for it, you can still feel some of the original magic.”  
  
Harry hadn’t realized that climbing inside the dome was an option; had he known, he would have skipped the bell tower altogether.  He wondered if he would be in the city long enough to go back and try it.  
  
“That’s not quite what I meant, though,” Cedric cut in.  “I was wondering if there were other wizards in the city, and where we would go to find them.  I couldn’t find a lot of information on wizarding communities in Florence before I came.”  
  
Doimo sighed.  “I am not surprised.  Sadly, there are very few wizards in Firenze these days.  Most of them have moved to the countryside, or nearby towns.  What is left in the city is mostly for tourists.  But if there is anything specific you are looking for, maybe I can help.”  
  
There was something specific, in fact; Cedric had Doimo point out the nearest public floo on his map.  Harry could tell that Cedric was a little disappointed about the lack of Florentine wizards, but even so, he smiled warmly and thanked Doimo for all of his help.  They left the shop shortly after, a stream of heartfelt ‘ciaos’ following them out the door.  
  
There was only a short walk from the bridge before Harry and Cedric came to the expansive, sloping piazza that served as the welcome mat to the [Palazzo Pitti](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/39/3075_-_Firenze_-_Palazzo_Pitti_-_Foto_Giovanni_Dall%27Orto%2C_28-Oct-2007.jpg).  If the Palazzo Vecchio was more of a fortress, the Palazzo Pitti was a proper palace, immense and regal.  It was so large that it housed not one, but a number of galleries.  
  
Neither Harry nor Cedric knew this, however, until they had reached the front of the ticket line where they were asked which gallery they would like to see.  As a spur of the moment decision, they abandoned the galleries altogether and bought tickets for the [Boboli Gardens](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/df/BoboliEntrance.jpg) instead.  
  
The gardens were located behind the palace and had the nobility to match.  The first area they walked into, a large amphitheater with sculptures around the perimeter and a tall obelisk in the center, was impressive in itself, but it was only the beginning.  They next came across a fountain that was more of a lake in size, ornamented with sculptures both in an around the water.  They continued to climb up random paths, following a few promising looking signs.  Soon they had reached a plateau with a breathtaking view of the city.  Harry already felt as though he were getting to know Florence; he immediately picked out the Duomo and the Palazzo Vecchio.  
  
They moved on after a silent moment of appreciation for the panorama.  Both Harry and Cedric preferred the small hedge-alleys to the main paths of the garden, and by unspoken agreement they stuck to these more intimate routes.  At one point, Cedric turned to him with his hands in his coat pockets and grinned.  
  
“Are you getting déjà vu yet?”  
  
“Not until we run across a blast-ended skrewt,” said Harry, making Cedric laugh.  “Actually,” said Harry, “I was just thinking how this is nothing like the maze whatsoever.  It’s much more – pleasant.”  He raised his head to smile sheepishly at Cedric.  “I think I prefer when we’re not competing, don’t you?”  
  
Cedric smiled back in a way that momentarily caught Harry’s breath.  “Absolutely.”  
  
They walked along in silence for what felt like a long time before Cedric spoke again.  “The Boboli Gardens do have one thing in common with the third task, though.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“It’s a bloody maze.”  Cedric stopped walking and looked around him with amusement.  “Harry, I think we’re lost.”  
  
***  
  
Twenty minutes later, Harry and Cedric were still clueless as to their location.  They should have grabbed a map from the ticket window, but neither of them had realized how utterly _massive_ the Boboli Gardens were.  It felt like they had been walking forever without any sign of the garden’s edge, and they had lost the main paths long ago.  It was also too chilly that day to attract many visitors, so they couldn’t even ask around for directions.  Harry couldn’t remember having seen another human for an hour at least.  
  
They sat down together on a stone bench under an archway made of hibernating vines, and Cedric cast a simple warming charm over them.  It felt good on Harry’s wind-bitten face.  He let out a long sigh, only just registering the soreness of his limbs from all the walking and climbing they’d been doing.  Next to him, Cedric idly loosened his scarf and stared ahead down one of the trails.  The only sounds were the occasional birdcall and the rustle of leaves.  
  
“I never got a chance to ask you,” said Harry abruptly.  Abruptly was the only way he knew to broach the subject.  “Why did you trick me into taking the cup that day?”  
  
Cedric’s immediate response was pretty much what Harry expected.  He furrowed his brow, looking somber and contrite.  “I’m so sorry.  I never should have let you go alone.”  
  
“Save it,” Harry interrupted.  He had hated Cedric’s apologies ten years ago, and he certainly didn’t care about them now.  “It’s in the past.  Maybe it had to happen that way, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter anymore.  I was just – curious as to why.”  
  
Cedric studied him for a moment, and then went back to studying the path.  “I thought you deserved it.”  
  
“Why, because of the Boy Who Lived rubbish?”  Harry didn’t think that was it, but he would be pissed off if it were.  
  
Cedric shook his head slowly.  “No.  It had very little to do with you, actually.  But like you said – it’s in the past.”  Harry waited for Cedric to elaborate, but he was resolutely staring ahead.  
  
It took a moment for Harry to work out the implications of Cedric’s response.  Cedric had said that Harry deserved it, and yet the reasons had little to do with him.  Did Harry “deserve” it only because Cedric thought he, himself, didn’t?  At fourteen, Harry never would have believed that – certainly not coming from perfect Diggory – but now he had a different perspective.  In the past few days he had seen Cedric scared, angry, uncomfortable – just like any normal person.  He had also seen Cedric pale and tense in front of a nude male statue.  There was probably loads about Cedric he didn’t know.  
  
He decided at that moment that he wanted to know.  He wanted to know more about the normal human being underneath the faultless façade.  After all, who knew more than Harry about façades?  Witches and wizards everywhere still thought of him as a hero, when he was probably no more a hero than Cedric was perfect.  
  
Very slowly, and very casually, Harry spread apart his legs until his right knee came in contact with Cedric’s left.  “You deserved it also,” he said simply.  He stayed in that position, with their knees lightly touching, and followed Cedric’s gaze into the space ahead.  He hoped Cedric would get the hint.  A moment passed, and neither of them had moved; Harry’s heart was actually racing with the effort of keeping still.  Then, a few seconds later, he could feel Cedric’s eyes on the side of his face.  Even though this had been Harry’s idea, and even though he had made the first move, he felt his face suddenly catch fire in response.  If Cedric had been unsure before of Harry’s intentions, his red cheeks surely gave him away.  
  
They stayed like that for what felt like ages: knees touching, Cedric staring, Harry’s cheeks burning.  Finally, unable to take the awkward tension, Harry turned his head to meet Cedric’s gaze.  
  
What he saw nearly stopped his pounding heart in its tracks.  
  
Cedric’s look was _intense_ , piercing, a look Harry had never seen before.  Well, no, that wasn’t true.  He had seen Cedric look like this before, but it had been years ago.  It was the same look that had preceded a dragon, a lake, a maze … and now it was trained on Harry with that same determination and confidence.  
  
This must have been how Cedric got his reputation.  Taken out of his element, Cedric floundered, and that’s the Cedric Harry had encountered on a plane two days ago.  Given a task or a challenge, however, something he was good at, and Cedric suddenly turned into _this_.  Self-assured.  Unshakeable.  Completely sexy.  Harry had unknowingly flipped a switch in Cedric’s persona, and now he felt like a deer caught in the headlights of his own making.  
  
Cedric didn’t wait for him to make the next move, or even figure out what the next move should be.  He leaned in, pressing their knees closer together, and lifted a hand to Harry’s head.  Harry, like an idiot, instinctively leaned back.  Cedric smiled, a smile that was just as confident as his gaze.  
  
“You have a leaf in your hair,” he explained.  
  
“Oh,” said Harry intelligently.  
  
Cedric reached up to remove the leaf, but instead of plucking it from Harry’s head, he threaded his fingers through his hair.  The tips grazed Harry’s scalp, and Harry would have shivered if he weren’t trying so bloody hard to sit absolutely still.  Cedric pulled his hand away, and with it came the leaf, now cupped in his palm.  He looked down at it, and then up at Harry with another radiant – and impish – grin.  
  
“Make a wish?” he said, holding it up to Harry’s lips.  
  
“I thought that only worked with eyelashes.”  
  
Cedric shrugged.  “I like making my own rules.  Don’t you?”  
  
Harry stared at it for a few moments, then blew.  The leaf swept away down one of the garden’s innumerable secret paths.  
  
“What did you wish for?” Cedric asked.  
  
Harry would get no better invitation than that.  To be honest, he wasn’t exactly the patient type, and the anticipation at this point was slowly killing him.  If he wanted to draw out the game, he could have responded with, “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”  
  
Instead, he just grabbed the back of Cedric’s neck and pulled him close until their lips were pressed together.  
  
Harry hadn’t kissed another bloke in ages, and the first thing he thought was how different it was, and how familiar.  The kiss was chaste at the start; Harry could tell how chapped his own lips were compared to Cedric’s wonderfully soft mouth.  Then they opened their mouths at once, and Harry inhaled Cedric’s breath.  The taste of it made him dizzy – or maybe he just wasn’t getting enough oxygen.  He pulled back just barely so that their lips were still grazing, then came back aggressively with his tongue.  Cedric was immediately responsive, and bloody hell – where had he learned to kiss like that?  
  
Harry’s hands were in Cedric’s hair and on the back of his neck.  Cedric’s were creeping along Harry’s waist under the hem of his jacket.  Harry wanted to remove the jacket altogether, because Cedric’s warming charm had suddenly become unbearably hot, but he didn’t want to detach from Cedric’s mouth.  He thought of removing Cedric’s coat instead, but worried about being too forward.  They hadn’t exactly discussed any of this, and Harry didn’t want to make any presumptuous wrong moves.  The thought made him hesitate, which cut through the urgency of the kiss.  Cedric pulled back and looked at him with concern and a small hint of doubt.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked.  “Is this too much?”  
  
Harry spit laughter.  “Too much” was hardly his problem.  If he were being cautious, it was only for Cedric’s sake, and only because he had seemed so uncomfortable about sexuality over the past couple of days.  But Harry forgot – this was the _new_ Cedric, the one who was back in his element and knew what he was doing.  He probably even knew what a fantastic kisser he was.  The notion of Harry being worried about him was just as ludicrous as the reverse.  
  
“No, definitely not too much,” he assured him.  “Not enough, if anything.”  He carded a hand through Cedric’s hair and basked in his answering smile.  “Now where were we?”  
  
Cedric showed him.  For a few minutes they silently got to know each other’s mouths.  The kiss was deep and sensual, yet it was Cedric’s hands running up and down Harry’s sides that were driving him insane.  However far Cedric was willing to take things, Harry didn’t expect he’d want a go in the middle of a public park, even an empty one.  When it was nearly more than he could bear, Harry gently broke the kiss, removing Cedric’s hands from his body and holding them in his own.  
  
At first he didn’t know what to say, and they sat like that, staring at each other with goofy grins.  Then Cedric began to laugh.  
  
“What?” Harry asked.  
  
“You!  I can’t believe…”  Cedric shook his head, then looked at Harry as though he were some sort of oddity.  “Sorry.  I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the notion that _you_ , of all people, are gay!”  
  
“Well, bisexual if you want to be technical about it.”  
  
Cedric stopped laughing.  “Really?”  
  
Harry frowned.  “What do you mean, ‘Really’?”  
  
“Bisexual?”  
  
“Yeah, is that a problem?”  
  
Cedric actually gave it some thought, and then shrugged.  “Depends.  Is that your way of saying you have sex with men and relationships with women?”  
  
It sounded like a line Cedric had been given before.  Even though Harry understood the wizarding culture that bred such misconceptions, he was still offended.  Cedric was supposed to be the educated one.  He let go of Cedric’s hands and crossed his arms.  “No, it means I’ll have sex and relationships with whoever I damn well please.”  
  
“So you’d – be okay with a relationship, then?”  
  
Harry was so blindsided by the question that his anger completely vanished, and his arms dropped to his sides.  Had he actually said that?  And were they having this conversation so soon?  They’d only just snogged a minute ago!  
  
“A relationship?  I guess – maybe – if, I mean, if that’s what you want, or what we want.  I have a really unpredictable schedule, and I’m out of the country a lot.  I’m not saying it wouldn’t work, it’s just you should probably know that going in.  And, well, I’m not exactly out to the press or anything.  I don’t know if that’s a problem, but they tend to, er, follow me around.  Still.  But I reckon if that’s okay with you–“  
  
Cedric planted another kiss on Harry’s lips, and thank Merlin, because Harry couldn’t seem to stop rambling on his own.  When they pulled away, Cedric grinned.  
  
“I have an idea.  Let’s just take things one step at a time, yeah?”  
  
“Agreed,” said Harry with relief.  “And I think the first step should be getting out of these bloody gardens.”  He pulled out his wand and placed it in his palm.  “Point me.”  
  
***  
  
That evening at Alida’s was torturous.  Cedric was a right bastard when he wanted to be.  
  
At first Harry thought he was imagining things, just seeing what he wanted to see, but after the third or fourth time there was no denying it.  Cedric was giving him _looks_.  Every time Alida turned her back, there it was – that confident smirk that said, “I know what you want.”  Every innocuous phrase like “wand polishing” or “cured meat” was coupled with a dirty glance.  Cedric was _teasing_ him, the prick, and it was all Harry could do to keep a straight face, especially around Alida.  To think he’d ever thought of Cedric as prudish.  
  
Whether it had to do with their new “relationship” or the fact that magic had been openly displayed the night before, Cedric seemed much more at ease in general, especially with his grandmother.  Instead of carefully avoiding any mention of magic, he was actually determined to make a point of it.  Information about the wizarding world made its way into every conversation, and after dinner, Cedric demonstrated some basic spells with Latin roots that Alida might recognize.  
  
Alida watched politely, asking a few questions and trying to guess the spells’ functions based on their incantations, but Harry could sense her hesitation.  While Cedric expounded on magic, Alida countered by explaining how muggles managed to get on so well _without_ it.  At one point it sounded more like a competition than a conversation.  Still, it was all very friendly on the surface, and Harry actually learned quite a bit from each of them.  
  
They both bade Alida good night, then walked the two flights to their bedroom.  The moment Cedric closed the door behind them, he gave Harry another exaggerated look.  
  
Harry shoved him in the arm.  “You’re a complete git, you know that?”  
  
Cedric just laughed.  “I couldn’t help myself!  Your reactions were priceless.”  
  
“Oh really?  How’s this for a reaction?”  
  
Harry pinned Cedric against the door, and leaned up to reach his mouth.  The kiss was slow and purposeful, like the one in the gardens.  Without breaking contact, Harry grabbed Cedric by the jumper and dragged him across the room.  He fell backward on Cedric’s bed, and Cedric landed on top of him with an unsexy ‘oof,’ which made Harry snigger.  
  
It was incredible to feel another body weighing him down into the mattress; it had been a while since Harry had had this much physical contact with someone, and even longer since he’d been with another bloke.  That fact, coupled with the knowledge that he could be spirited back to London at any moment, made Harry impatient, more so than usual.  He flipped them over so he was straddling Cedric’s chest, then immediately set to work divesting him.  
  
Cedric stilled his hands.  “Don’t forget we’re in my grandmother’s house.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“ _So,_ I’m not going to do anything with my grandmother here!”  
  
“But that’s what silencing spells and cleaning charms are for.”  Harry reached again for the hem of Cedric’s jumper, and Cedric once again stubbornly held it in place.  Harry huffed in frustration.  “Come on, at _least_ take off your top!”  
  
Cedric got up from under Harry and pulled out his wand.  “Not until I’ve set that silencing spell, and a few others just to be safe.”  
  
Harry assumed correctly that “a few others” translated to anti-muggle security on par with the Quidditch World Cup.  He rolled his eyes and tapped the bed impatiently.  When Cedric noticed, he paused in his litany of incantations to kiss Harry on the forehead.  
  
“Relax,” he said, grinning.  “We have the whole night to ourselves.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links will take you to pretty pictures. Hugs and thanks to my beta and britpicker nagi_schwarz.

Harry was certain that Alida would notice something.  As much as he tried to act normally, he kept glancing at Cedric, and laughing at things that weren’t that funny, and probably being the exact opposite of discreet.  It wasn’t his fault that fooling around the night before had put him in such a good mood.  
  
Cedric, on the other hand, was the image of composure.  He smiled and chatted as though nothing had changed and only glanced back at Harry when Alida’s attention was elsewhere.  At the moment, her attention was on finding the ticket line.  
  
They were standing in a stone courtyard surrounded by the high, windowed walls of the [Uffizi](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/69/Galleria_degli_Uffizi.jpg).  Since it was the weekend, Alida was finally able to show them around the city herself, and they were starting with Florence’s preeminent art museum.  
  
The interior of the museum was nearly as intimidating as the exterior.  Some of the walls were covered floor to ceiling in oil paintings, and marble sculptures lined each hallway.  Harry was grateful they had Alida as a guide; she claimed to have absorbed information from her late husband, but she sounded like an art scholar in her own right.  Most of what they saw would have been meaningless to Harry without her insight.  
  
“Where does the Vasari Corridor connect?” Cedric asked as they walked past portraits and landscapes.  
  
He had asked several of those educated-type questions already, and Alida no longer looked surprised.  In fact, she seemed faintly proud.  “I can point it out to you when we step outside, though the corridor itself is only open for special tours.”  
  
“What corridor?” asked Harry, who had been asking _that_ particular question all morning. Cedric and Alida could show off all they wanted; Harry had no problem admitting he was clueless.  
  
“It’s a passageway that connects the Palazzo Pitti to the Palazzo Vecchio,” Alida explained.  “It was built so the Grand Duke could travel between them without actually going outside.”  
  
“Vasari was the architect who designed it,” Cedric added.  “He was also a painter and a very important historian.  He was the first to record biographies of all the important muggle and wizarding artists of the Renaissance.”  
  
“Wizarding?”  This was clearly something Alida hadn’t known.  “Vasari wrote about wizards?”  
  
Cedric nodded.  “It was in a second volume called _Lives of the Most Magical Painters, Sculptors, and Architects_.  There was a copy at the Hogwarts library.  If you’re interested, I could try finding one for you.”  
  
“No, I wouldn’t want you to go through the trouble.  And the names would be meaningless, anyway, unless I had the art in front of me to reference.”  Cedric looked a bit disappointed, so Alida smiled and added, “I wouldn’t mind going to a wizarding art museum some time.”  
  
It was clear Cedric appreciated the conciliatory gesture by the way his face lit up.  It led to a comfortable, friendly lunch at a small bakery, free of any tension.  Harry just hoped the mood would last.  
  
From the _panificio_ , they walked to the [San Lorenzo market](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/98/Mercato_di_San_Lorenzo_\(Florence\).JPG).  Harry was expecting something along the lines of the craft market they had stumbled across on their first day, but it was nothing of the sort.  Vendors took up every inch of the street, their booths dripping with jewelry, clothing, bags, and any number of souvenirs.  Crowds of people wandered about, both tourists and Italians alike.  Even in the cold of winter, the San Lorenzo market was bustling.  
  
Not long after they had arrived, Cedric excused himself to find the public floo that Doimo had marked on his map.  Apparently it wasn’t too far from there, and he wanted to fire call home to let his dad know he was okay.  He left in the direction they had come.  Suddenly, Harry found himself alone with Alida.  
  
They spent a minute or two just walking around, taking in the merchandise.  Harry pointed out a few items just to break up the silence, but it was Alida who started a conversation.  
  
“So tell me, Harry.  How long have you known Cedric?”  
  
It was a perfectly innocent question, but it already made Harry nervous.  Alida didn’t really know anything about him, and certainly not about him and Cedric.  He hoped he wouldn’t let anything slip in Cedric’s absence.  “About ten years, since we were in school together.  But we hadn’t seen each other in ages before I ran into him on the plane.”  
  
“I see.”  They walked a little further before Alida asked, “Is he enjoying himself here, do you think?”  
  
Harry had a brief mental image of last night, and grinned before he could stop himself.  “Yeah, we’ve been having loads of fun.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.  I worry that he seems too serious for his age.”  
  
“He’s a lot more relaxed once he lets his guard down.”  That didn’t come out quite as Harry had intended, and he hoped he hadn’t inadvertently insulted Alida.  Feeling embarrassed, he turned away from her to inspect a leather wallet.  
  
“Was he the same way when you were in school together?  Before – the war?”  
  
Harry stilled, but didn’t turn around.  “Maybe?  I’m not sure.  I didn’t really know him that well back then.”  
  
There was a pause before Harry heard Alida sigh next to him.  “He was too young to have lived through that.  Both of you were.”  
  
“We didn’t have a choice,” Harry said.  
  
“There’s always a choice,” Alida replied.  
  
Harry put down the wallet and faced her.  The conversation was now taking a dangerous turn, and unless Harry wanted to lie outright, he would have to come clean and get it over with.  “There’s something I should tell you.  About me, I mean.”  His eyes darted about the crowd.  “But maybe not here.”  
  
“I know who you are,” said Alida abruptly.  
  
Harry froze.  “Sorry?”  
  
Alida adjusted her scarf, looking away apologetically.  “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I already know who you are.”  
  
Whether or not she meant to, the confession made Harry _extremely_ uncomfortable.  It colored all of their past interactions, and Harry could feel the weight of fame and responsibility being placed back on his shoulders.  He had enjoyed being anonymous in this city, Cedric aside; now he felt the acute pain of being Harry Potter once more, and it came on sudden and sharp.  He was also immediately reminded that Alida had lost a daughter because of him.  
  
Perhaps unnerved by Harry’s silence, Alida continued.  “My daughter told me about you after your first war ended.  She phoned me on the nearest payphone – I hadn’t heard her voice in years.  I remember she just kept repeating your name, over and over again.”  Alida smiled sadly at the memory.  “The next time I heard your name wasn’t until about four years ago, when I received my first letter from Cedric.  I already knew my daughter had died, but no one had told me until then that your second war had ended.  In any case, I remembered you from all those years ago.”  She paused, brushing her fingers over a pile of wallets.  “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier.  I wanted to thank you the moment Cedric introduced you, but again, I was worried about making you uncomfortable.  Perhaps I should have been more honest.”  
  
“It’s all right,” Harry mumbled.  “It was nice, I guess, thinking you didn’t know me.”  
  
Alida looked at him for an uncomfortable moment.  “You’re right, though.  I didn’t know you.”  She smiled and placed a comforting hand on Harry’s arm.  “I’m glad I’ve had this opportunity to meet you, Harry.  Now I feel as though I can thank you properly.  So, thank you, for all you’ve done for me and my family.”  
  
Harry generally disliked this sort of attention, especially from a victim’s family, but it did make him feel better to know where they stood.  He was glad, at least, that he wouldn’t have to hide his past or take the time to explain himself.  Eager to break the moment, Harry nodded across the way and said, “Can we look at those postcards?”  
  
Alida followed him across the street, and together they flipped through photographs of everything Harry had seen so far, and many things he hadn’t.  At one point he asked, “I wonder if there’s an owlery around?” mostly to himself.  There were a few postcards he knew Hermione, in particular, would enjoy.  
  
“Can I ask you something, Harry?” said Alida.  
  
Harry shrugged by way of answer.  
  
“You work for the airline, now.  Was it difficult to adjust to the muggle world?”  
  
“Not really,” he said, pulling out another card.  “I was raised by muggles, so I know how to get by.  Though there are some things that still throw me off.”  He looked up at her, a thought forming in his mind.  “I don’t – I don’t _live_ in the muggle world, you know.  I just work there.  I still live in a flat without electricity, and all my friends are witches and wizards.”  
  
“But you feel comfortable in both environments.”  
  
Now Harry had an idea of what she was getting at.  He responded as carefully as he could.  “Yeah, I guess, but the wizarding world is my home.  The muggle one…I’m not really invested in it, if that makes sense.  It’s just somewhere to be, or somewhere to earn a living.”  He tapped the postcard against his leg thoughtfully.  “I have a really good friend who’s muggleborn.  I think she has a harder time than I do.  She told me once it feels like being two different people, or living in two different places at the same time.  Then again, she’s sort of the type who needs to know everything and do everything, so maybe she’s not the best example.”  Harry shrugged.  
  
Alida was about to respond, but that was when she spotted Cedric making his way back towards them, and the subject was dropped.  
  
Harry ended up buying a few postcards, which he decided to send by regular post.  Hermione – who of course had a proper postbox – could pass them on to everyone else.  
  
***  
  
The three of them sat around the dinner table, finishing off their wine and planning tomorrow’s events.  Harry tried not to get involved, since he didn’t know where he would be tomorrow.  What he was _really_ looking forward to was another night spent with Cedric.  He considered claiming fatigue and heading upstairs early, and wondered if Cedric would get the hint and join him.  
  
Of course, he didn’t want to interrupt Cedric and Alida’s time together.  Earlier, they had enjoyed an abstract discussion on history and art, topics to which Harry had contributed little.  Cedric apparently had gone back to his earlier policy, so there had been virtually no mention of either wizards or muggles.  Maybe that was for the best.  
  
In fact, everything had been going quite well.  Well, that is, until Harry had to go and knock over his wine glass.  
  
It was an honest enough mistake; he had merely been reaching for another _biscotto_.  There wasn’t much left in the glass, either, but what was there managed to leap over the table’s edge and splatter Alida’s beige carpeting.  
  
Harry’s first response was to reach for a napkin, or wet a towel in the sink.  It was Cedric who instinctively pulled out his wand and vanished the stain.  
  
Alida stared at the missing stain for a moment, then got up from her seat.  “Thank you, Cedric, I appreciate the help.  If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to get some spot treatment in case you missed anything.”  
  
Cedric frowned.  “I didn’t miss anything.”  
  
“Oh, I’m not insulting your skill.  I’m just rather fond of this carpet, so I like to be safe.”  
  
“I didn’t miss anything,” Cedric repeated, with greater assertion.  
  
Alida paused where she stood.  “Please don’t take it personally.  I just don’t want to take the risk, is all.”  
  
“Because you assume that magic is a risk?”  
  
Alida frowned.  “That’s not what I said.”  After a hesitant pause, she added, “What are you getting at, Cedric?”  
  
That was the question he had been waiting for.  Cedric took a deep breath, and Harry could tell he was about to say all the things he had been storing since his arrival.  Harry immediately began thinking of ways to defuse the situation.  Avoiding conflict was, after all, now a part of his job description.  But Cedric spoke before Harry could intervene – not with the anger that Harry expected, but with forced calm.  
  
“I know you don’t like magic.  I know that’s why you and Mum had a falling out.  But this is a part of who I am, and if you want me in your life you’re going to have to accept that.”  
  
“And who told you this?  Your mother?”  Alida’s voice was just as steady as his, although she was tightly gripping the back of the chair.  
  
There was a beat before Cedric said, “She didn’t have to tell me.”  
  
Alida let go of the chair, and left the room.  They could hear her on the stairs, and then walking about the second floor.  
  
“Cedric–“  
  
“I don’t want to hear it, Harry.”  
  
Harry rubbed his face, and continued what he was about to say anyway.  He _liked_ Alida, and he didn’t like Cedric treating her this way.  “She doesn’t deserve that, you know.  She’s trying, at least, and that’s more than I could say about _my_ muggle relatives.”  
  
“I’m only being honest,” said Cedric with a stubborn determination in his eyes.  “If I’m going to be staying here, we have to–“  
  
Cedric was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming back down the stairs.  Alida reentered the room, walked to the table and handed Cedric a folder stuffed with papers and photographs.  Cedric took it without question, and began looking through its contents.  He had a similar reaction as he had that first night with the photo album.  He visibly deflated, looking more exhausted than upset.  From where he was sitting, Harry could make out a few of the objects: an old muggle photo of a small girl in front of a train; a letter written on yellowed parchment with green ink.  
  
Alida took her seat, and clasped her hands on the table.  “I have always supported your mother, from the moment she received that letter.”  
  
Cedric furrowed his brow, but didn’t remove his eyes from the photos.  “So what happened, then?  Why were you two barely on speaking terms?”  
  
Alida waited for Cedric to look up before responding.  “It’s a bit more complicated than that.  I’m afraid I –“  Alida sighed.  “I don’t know where to begin.  I haven’t been completely honest with you, Cedric.”  Here she paused, and stood up to retrieve the rest of the wine from the kitchen.  She offered both Cedric and Harry another glass before refilling her own, although she didn’t drink it right away, just held it in her hand.  
  
“You see, when we moved to Florence . . . it wasn’t for my husband’s job.  We moved because of the war.  Your war.  It was no longer safe for your mother, who had two muggle parents, to live in that part of the world, so we took her to Italy the moment she finished school.”  
  
Alida took a sip of the wine before continuing her story, while both Harry and Cedric listened with rapt attention.  
  
“You have to understand, we were only looking out for her safety.  She resented us for it, your mother.  She went along with it, but she resented us.  What my husband and I didn’t realize, you see, didn’t even think to look into, was the fact that there are practically no magical folk left in Florence.  You’ve probably noticed that yourself.  In any case, your mother was miserable here, and that was really only one reason of many.”  
  
Alida began gesturing as she spoke, in true Italian fashion.  “There had been this – sense, this intuition I’d had for years, that she was growing more distant.  At first I thought it was a typical adolescent phase.  I always tried to give her a lot of freedom, and I assumed it was something she would grow out of.  But every year, whenever she came home from Hogwarts, she seemed less and less a part of our lives.  It started off small.  She never expressed any interest in what was happening in “our” current events, or she would become easily frustrated with simple tasks that she was used to performing with magic.  When she went out with friends, they always went someplace where she knew I couldn’t follow.”  
  
It seemed like a topic to which Alida had given a lot of contemplation, thought Harry.  He wondered how often she had this conversation with herself, and how long she had been waiting to share it with someone else.  There was an intensity in her voice that spoke of a need to be heard and understood.  
  
Alida stared at her wine glass and then took another sip.  “I thought, very naively, that being here, being removed from all of that, would make things better, but they became much worse.  Your mother was finally allowed to perform magic outside of school, you see.  Suddenly, she was using magic for _everything_.  It was…not upsetting, I’ve never had a problem with magic, but it made me – anxious, I suppose.  It felt as though she were using magic as a wedge to drive between us.  Perhaps I was being paranoid; perhaps not.  In any case, one day, about a year after we had moved, I made the mistake of confronting her about it.  I ended up saying some things I shouldn’t have said.  And the next day, she was gone.”  
  
Alida looked at Cedric with eyes full of sadness, and something else.  “A few months later, I found out she had eloped.  A year after that, and you were born.”  Alida shook her head.  “She was so young when she had you.”  
  
They three of them sat there for a minute in silence before Cedric spoke.  All the fight was gone from his eyes, but the determination remained in his voice.  “Then I was right,” he said softly.  “You don’t like magic.  You think it ruined your relationship with Mum, and I understand that, but the fact remains that you don’t like talking about it, and you don’t like seeing it.”  
  
“That’s not true.”  Alida leaned in towards Cedric as though Harry’s presence had been completely forgotten.  “What bothers me is seeing you so _dependent_ on magic.  I don’t want you to become – isolated like she was.  I know you think my muggle ways are beneath you.  You mother thought the same thing.”  Cedric tried to interrupt, but Alida held up her hand to silence him.  “No, Cedric.  Fighting for muggles is not the same thing as being comfortable around muggles.  I just want you to be comfortable here.  With or without magic.”  She placed her hand over Cedric’s on the table, and looked him straight in the eye.  “I don’t want that barrier between us, because I want to see you as often as possible.”  
  
With his free hand, Cedric covered Alida’s and gave it a small squeeze.  “I want the same thing.”  
  
And just as Harry was wondering if he should give the two of them some privacy, his mobile began to vibrate.  
  
***  
  
[Fiesole](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f8/View_fiesole.JPG) looked unreal in the night sky, just a series of lights sprinkled over the peak of a low mountain.  The air was chilly, even with a jacket, and the only sounds were the crickets and the brook that flowed beneath him to his left.  The houses around here, even though they were residential and modern, still had a distinctive Italian flavor with their red tiled roofs and pale yellow walls.  The view from the balcony was lovely.  
  
Harry heard the glass doors behind him slide open, and soon Cedric was standing next to him.  
  
“How is everything?” Harry asked as he half-turned, leaning his right arm against the ledge.  
  
Without hesitation, Cedric raised a hand and threaded it through Harry’s hair, watching his own fingers move back and forth against Harry’s scalp before answering.  “It’s good, I think.  Or else it’s going to be.  We both have some things to work on, but I’m glad we finally got it all out in the open.”  
  
“Spoken like a true Hufflepuff,” Harry teased.  
  
Cedric smirked, then moved his hand down to caress Harry’s cheek before continuing lower to massage the back of his neck.  “You’ve packed,” he said.  
  
Harry sighed and shrugged one shoulder.  “I leave first thing tomorrow morning.”  
  
The pressure on his neck grew more purposeful, and Harry closed his eyes because it felt so bloody good.  He’d never known anyone to give spontaneous massages before.  Without breaking momentum, Cedric turned him bodily so that he was leaning forward against the ledge.  Now Cedric was behind him, focusing his attention on Harry’s shoulders.  
  
“Fuck,” said Harry, long and low, to show his appreciation.  
  
They were silent for a minute or two as Cedric worked his way down Harry’s back.  Harry had his head resting on top of his folded arms and was dangerously close to falling asleep on his feet, Cedric was that good.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” asked Cedric at one point.  
  
“The Yule Ball,” answered Harry sleepily.  
  
Cedric snorted.  “The Yule Ball?”  
  
“Well, I was thinking about you, and how much I resented you back then.  You just seemed like you had everything figured out, you know?  Like it was all so easy.  Stupid, I know, but I was sort of jealous, to be honest.”  
  
Cedric laughed, though the laugh was bitter.  “Are you kidding?  That year was probably one of the most difficult periods of my life.”  
  
Harry turned his head to try and look over his shoulder.  “But you were Champion.  The real Champion, I mean.  Everyone loved you.  And you got to go to the ball with – oh, I guess that didn’t really help.”  
  
“No, not so much.”  Cedric pressed hard into Harry’s lower back, and Harry returned his head to its original position.  After a pause, Cedric continued.  “If anything, I was envious of you.”  
  
Harry snorted in response, and Cedric hit him lightly on the back.  “I’m being serious.  No matter what you were dealing with, you always seemed – I don’t know – so comfortable in your own skin.  Meanwhile, I was spending that whole year just trying to figure out who I was, trying to be as normal as possible.  The tournament was part of it, I guess.  Anyway, by the time we reached the cup, I had this sudden realization that even if I won, it wouldn’t really change anything.”  
  
Harry felt the hands on him still, and then warm lips were pressed to the back of his neck.  The kisses continued up towards his ear, making Harry squirm.  After everything that had happened that night, he was a little surprised to find himself being seduced once again, and so soon – not that he was complaining.  
  
Harry turned around and smiled as he leaned back against the ledge.  Cedric still looked exhausted, but more relaxed than before, as though giving a massage were more therapeutic than receiving one.  Without preamble, Harry wrapped his arms around Cedric’s waist and brought him into a proper kiss.  
  
Despite the cold, they remained outside for a while, warming each other with mouths and body heat.  There was no way of knowing how long it would be until they were both back in London, and so Harry preferred to take his time over getting any sleep.  The kisses were slow and restrained, almost to the point of teasing.  Cedric had his hands once again on Harry’s back, while Harry – who was already loose from the massage – practically melted under the touch.  The air smelled of running water and Cedric.  
  
Since Harry wasn’t keeping track of time, he wasn’t exactly sure how long they were out there.  The kiss probably could have lasted all night if they hadn’t been interrupted by the faint sound of a door opening from inside their room.  
  
One second, Cedric was locked to Harry’s mouth; the next second, there was a good three feet between them.  Through the glass doors, they could see Alida staring at them, the doorknob still in her hand.  Harry could tell by the surprise in her face that it was too late; she had already seen enough.  
  
Harry froze for a second, then opened the sliding doors and stepped into the bedroom, assuming that Cedric would follow behind.  “Hi,” he said, for lack of anything else to say.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Alida immediately apologized.  “I knocked first, but no one answered.  I didn’t mean to barge in.”  
  
“It’s your house,” Harry reminded her.  “Actually, I – I hope you’re not upset.  We only started seeing each other yesterday, so we haven’t been going behind your back or anything.  Although I guess we still should have said something.  I’m sorry you found out like this.”  
  
“Don’t be daft,” said Alida with sincerity.  “You’re both adults.  You don’t need my permission.”  She looked over Harry’s shoulder and frowned.  “Where is Cedric?”  
  
Harry spun around, and sure enough, Cedric was nowhere to be seen.  He must have escaped to another side of the balcony, one without windows.  Harry’s heart sank; this didn’t bode well.  “Hold on,” he said.  “I’ll go and get him.”  
  
He found Cedric easily enough; it’s not as though he had many options for places to hide.  Cedric was standing hunched over the balcony’s ledge, the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes.  From the movement of his shoulders, he seemed to be taking deep, steadying breaths.  
  
Harry approached as carefully as he could.  “Cedric?  Are you alright?”  
  
Cedric said nothing, and made no indication that he had heard Harry at all.  
  
Not knowing exactly what to do, Harry walked up next to him, and lightly placed his hand on Cedric’s shoulder.  As soon as he made physical contact, Cedric jumped as though he had been burned.  
  
“Don’t touch me!” he shouted.  “This is _your_ fault.  I never should have brought you here.”  
  
At another time in his life, those words may have stung, but Harry had dealt with enough unruly flight passengers to know not to respond in kind.  This wasn’t about him.  So he ignored the outburst and instead turned his focus back on Cedric, who was now pacing the length of the wall.  
  
“Calm down,” he said in a low voice.  “It’s okay.  She’s not upset, you know.”  
  
Cedric was more or less ignoring him, and waved an angry hand in his direction.  “Just – just shut up, I have to think.”  He dropped into a lawn chair that had been sitting out, and began rubbing his face with both hands.  His voice was laced with panic as he began rapidly talking to himself.  “I can’t go tonight, but I should be able to floo home first thing tomorrow morning.  I am _not_ going back on one of those damn planes; I don’t care if I do have a ticket.  Although it’s going to cost me a bloody fortune travelling by floo.  I hope I have enough cash on me.  Ah _fuck!_   What the hell am I supposed to tell my dad?”  
  
“Cedric, will you listen to me?”  
  
Cedric glared up at him.  “I don’t really care what you have to say to me right now.”  
  
Although Cedric was being rude as hell, Harry took heart in the fact that he already seemed more composed than he had just moments earlier.  “Just listen, alright?  Alida’s still in there waiting for you.  You should probably talk to you her before you go ahead and do something thick.”  
  
“Yeah, well I _really_ don’t want to hear what she has to say, so she can just go back downstairs and leave me alone.  I’ll be gone soon enough.  Actually, maybe it’s not too late to find a hotel.”  
  
Harry huffed in frustration.  Whatever patience his job had taught him was already wearing thin.  “You need to stop talking and let me explain something to you.  Alida is not upset.”  He spoke that last part slowly, enunciating every word to get the point across.  “Being gay isn’t such a big deal for muggles.  Alida was surprised, yeah, but she wasn’t – _scandalized_ or anything.”  
  
“I don’t give a fuck _what_ she was!” yelled Cedric.  “She has no right to barge into my private life like that.  I can’t stay here.”  
  
“Well at least talk to her first before you go running away to a hotel.”  
  
Perhaps it was the accusation of cowardice that finally got through to him.  Cedric stared at Harry angrily for a good few seconds without saying anything.  Then he stood up from the chair, visibly steeling himself against the challenge.  “Fine,” was all he said.  
  
The two of them walked back around the corner and into the bedroom where Alida was still waiting, seated on one of the beds.  She immediately stood as they entered.  “Is everything alright?” she asked nervously, looking back and forth between them.  
  
“You tell me,” Cedric answered.  He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, and although he did his best to appear intimidating, Harry could tell he was terrified.  He looked the same as he had on the plane that first day, his whole body tense and defensive.  Actually, he reminded Harry of a cornered animal: frightened, trembling, and ready to attack.  
  
“Are you upset with me?” asked Alida, still trying to get a grasp of the situation.  
  
The question threw Cedric for a loop, and for a brief moment he lost his aggressive edge.  “What?  Why would I…no.  No, I’m not.”  He paused before adding, “Aren’t _you_?”  
  
“What, upset?  Of course not.  I already talked to Harry.”  
  
Cedric’s head whipped around to look at Harry, probably wondering what the hell Harry could have said to her.  
  
Harry supposed now was the time to intervene.  Funny that he should act as a muggle-wizard translator in a country where he didn’t even speak the language.  He cleared his throat and addressed Alida.  “Cedric was actually asking whether you were upset about his, er, being gay.”  
  
Alida looked at Cedric and blinked, then frowned.  Cedric looked back in horror, probably shocked that those words had been spoken out loud.  “I may be getting on in years,” she finally said, “but I’m not _that_ behind the times.”  
  
From Cedric’s reaction, one would think that Alida had suddenly spoken Italian.  He turned to Harry for the translation, and Harry shrugged.  “Like I said.  It’s not a big deal for muggles.  I mean it used to be, years ago, and I guess in some places it still is, but for the most part people are fine with it.  You can even get married now.  Well, something like married.”  
  
“Not in Italy.  Not yet, at least.”  Understanding began to finally form on Alida’s face.  She regarded Cedric with a combination of pity and respect.  “But it’s only a matter of time.  The activists are more vocal than ever, and the younger generations especially are for it.”  
  
One word in all of that caught Cedric’s attention.  “Activists?”  
  
Alida nodded.  “That’s why so much has changed in recent years.  People are considering it the next important civil rights movement.”  
  
That simple statement left Cedric completely agape.  In fact, he seemed so dumbfounded by the very idea that almost all traces of fear had vanished.  “It’s a movement?  An actual, organized movement?”  
  
“Well, yeah,” said Harry.  “Like elf rights or something.  Only, you know, gay people aren’t elves.”  
  
Cedric turned to Harry, and Harry saw that determined spark in his eyes.  “Is there a group like that in London, do you think?”  He spoke quietly, as though embarrassed to ask in front of Alida.  
  
Harry grinned.  “Are you kidding?  I’m sure there are loads.  You obviously haven’t seen the right parts of London yet.”  
  
At that, Cedric finally smiled, the radiant one that could brighten a room.  The tension broke like a damn, flooding Harry with relief that the main crisis had been averted.  Cedric glanced back and forth between Harry and Alida, rubbing the back of his neck in an adorably uncomfortable gesture.  “Er, I’m sorry if I’ve been acting like a bit of a dolt.  This has been a very strange night for me.”  
  
Alida walked straight up to him, and grasped both of his arms so that they were standing face to face.  The gesture took him by surprise, and he immediately tensed as though this were the moment of judgment.  
  
Alida studied his reaction closely.  “Cedric, I want you to know that the only thing that matters to me is that you’re happy.  And I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that your mother would have felt the same way.”  
  
Cedric’s face went blank.  He just stood there, his arms at his side, his eyes full of emotion, as though he couldn’t properly process what Alida had just told him.  Perhaps he couldn’t.  Was that something he could even allow himself to believe, that his mother would have accepted him as he was?  Harry supposed that was something Cedric would have to work out for himself.  
  
After a few tense moments, Alida took one more step and pulled Cedric into a tight embrace.  Cedric pressed his face to her shoulder and, a moment later, thanked her.  
  
In the end, Harry wasn’t sure what role, if any, he had actually played in all of this.  But, as he stood there watching the two of them become a family again, he got the distinct sense that it was now okay for him to leave Florence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much thanks to my beta, nagi_schwarz.

Harry did not typically spend his days off at the airport. It was a little embarrassing to be seen there now, standing in the waiting area and wearing street clothes.  
  
Cedric stood next to him, looking about the place with interest. It was a strangely familiar yet unfamiliar scene. The last time they had been in an airport together, Cedric had regarded the muggles with a certain amount of misgiving, an unsure curiosity. Now, the curiosity was still there, but it was tinged with respect. Cedric no longer resembled a fish out of water, and even his muggle clothes seemed to fit him better these days.  
  
Those trousers, in fact, were particularly flattering. Far better than his usual loose robes. Harry should really ask him to dress muggle more often.  
  
He was quickly brought out of his prurient thoughts when he spotted a familiar face coming from the terminals – though not the one they were there waiting for.  
  
“Harry!” shouted Melissa with an impish grin on her face. “I thought you were on holiday? Just can’t stay away, can you?”  
  
“Very funny,” he replied, rolling his eyes. He waited for Melissa to approach them, luggage in tow, before making the introductions. “Cedric, this is Melissa, one of my coworkers. Melissa, this is my boyfriend, Cedric.”  
  
Harry had the exquisite pleasure of seeing the shock on both of their faces. This was the first time he had ever introduced Cedric that way, and he liked the sound of it. Cedric glared at him for a moment before his expression softened and he signaled his silent approval.  
  
Although he would never say it out loud, Harry was secretly proud of him. The turning point had been a few weeks after Cedric’s return from Florence as they lay together in Harry’s bed, Cedric holding him from behind with his hand splayed along Harry’s belly. Cedric was a very hands-on type of bloke; it had taken a while for him to get used to that. At the time, Cedric’s face had been pressed to Harry’s neck. It muffled his voice when he asked, out of nowhere, “Will you help me research muggle gay rights groups?”  
  
That had been about three months ago. Since then, Cedric had begun regularly volunteering at a local LGBT center, doing everything from office work to fundraising, mostly jobs that remained behind the scenes. The experience had led him through nothing short of a transformation. One simply had to know what to look for. Cedric _claimed_ to have accepted his sexuality ages ago, but resigned acceptance was very different from actively embracing it. Now he would even hold Harry’s hand in public, assuming it was a muggle public.  
  
That made two things that the LGBT center had taught him: there was nothing wrong with his sexuality, and there was a lot that muggles had to offer. For both those reasons, Cedric could now be introduced as Harry’s boyfriend to a muggle and remain completely at ease. He offered Melissa his hand and a winning smile.  
  
“A pleasure to meet you,” said Melissa, taking the hand. She gave Harry a mock-furious look, which translated to, “Why did you never mention your gorgeous boyfriend?” He took that as a compliment.  
  
“Pleasure’s mine,” said Cedric, chivalrous as always.  
  
Melissa crossed her arms and essentially gave him the once-over. “Well, it’s no wonder Harry’s always in such a rush to get home. You know, we thought there was _some_ one, but Harry’s notoriously tight-lipped about himself.”  
  
Cedric laughed, and raised an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “I can’t say I’m surprised. There are things about Harry you couldn’t possibly _imagine_.”  
  
Although he could have been talking about Harry’s defeat of a dark wizard, his tone implied they were discussing Harry’s performance in bed. Melissa clapped her hands together gleefully and said, “Is _that_ right?” She loved a good piece of gossip, meaning Harry’s love life would probably be halfway across the world by next week.  
  
Harry felt himself beginning to blush hotly. “Don’t listen to anything that comes out of this bloke’s mouth. He just enjoys torturing me.”  
  
“Only because it’s so easy,” replied Cedric as he squeezed Harry’s shoulder.  
  
“Well,” said Melissa, addressing Cedric, “I think you and I will definitely have to get together some time. I want to know all about this secret life that Harry leads.”  
  
Harry and Cedric shared a look, then promptly started laughing. Melissa was probably dying to learn the inside joke, but she pressed her lips together and didn’t ask.  
  
They talked for a moment more before Melissa had to leave, and then it was just the two of them once again. Cedric, whose thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, said nothing as he continued to watch the area just beyond the waiting room. Throngs of muggles bustled around them, arriving somewhere new or finally coming home. Every now and then a happy cry would go up as loved ones were reunited.  
  
Harry had never paid much attention to these vignettes before, but he watched them now. Typically, his job focused on people in transit, not on their arrival. Being in the air was sort of like being in limbo.  
  
He suddenly realized he was finally seeing the other side of that coin. The passengers on his flights weren’t just traveling for the sake of traveling, which sounded obvious, except he had never given it much thought before. Now he saw that they had business meetings to attend, or vacations they had been planning for months, or friends and lovers to meet. They had places to go. Destinations.  
  
And what about himself? Where was he going? What was his destination? These were questions he had been afraid to ask for years, but now they loomed before him as though they had been there all along.  
  
“All right?” asked Cedric, giving him a slight nudge.  
  
Harry started as he realized he had been staring into space. “Yeah, sorry.” He took one final glance around them and added, “I’m going to quit my job.”  
  
The two of them looked at each other in surprise. Harry hadn’t planned for those words to come out of his own mouth, but as soon as he made the statement, he knew it was true, and he wondered how long the decision had been forming.  
  
“I think I’m ready to do something else,” Harry explained. “Maybe – maybe something at, I don’t know, the Ministry or something.” He looked away, slightly embarrassed to be honestly considering the path he had once scorned. But times had changed, and so had he. He had a real relationship now, for one thing. He turned back to Cedric and added, “It means I’ll be around a lot more often.”  
  
Cedric’s didn’t need to express his appreciation out loud – Harry could read it in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, Cedric found Harry’s hand and held it between them. “I’m going to come out to my dad,” he said.  
  
 _“What?”_ Harry shouted, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. If his own announcement had been more or less a spur of the moment decision, it was clear that Cedric’s was not. This was something he had been planning for a while now. “When?”  
  
There was a lengthy pause before Cedric stated the unthinkable. “Tonight?” The determination in his voice wavered, making the statement sound more like a question. For the third time in the past year, Harry could see that Cedric Diggory was secretly terrified, but this time around Harry would make sure he knew he had support.  
  
Harry gave his hand a tight squeeze and nodded. “Tonight. We’ll both be there for you when you’re ready.”  
  
As if on cue, Cedric tuned his head toward the terminal exit and smiled. Harry followed his gaze to see a woman with brown and gray hair beaming at them.  
  
They took a few quick strides in her direction, while Alida dropped her bags to catch Cedric in a tight embrace.   
  
“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she said. She eventually let go, only to plant one, two, three kisses on Cedric’s cheeks. Then, to Harry’s complete surprise, she wrapped him in an equally enthusiastic hug and kissed each cheek the same number of times. Harry had been looking forward to seeing Alida, but he hadn’t expected to be greeted like a member of the family. It nearly floored him.  
  
“And it’s wonderful to see you, Harry. I can’t thank you enough for the tickets, by the way.”  
  
“It was no big deal, really,” Harry assured her. “My job comes with a lot of perks, but I don’t know anyone actually willing to use them. I’m just glad Cedric thought to ask.”  
  
“How was your flight?” asked Cedric as he helped her with her bags.  
  
“Terrifying,” she replied with a small laugh. “I can’t say I’m a huge fan of flying.”  
  
Cedric actually laughed out loud, and shared a knowing look with Harry. “That’s something we have in common, then. By the way, did I tell you Harry’s joining us for dinner tonight?”  
  
“No, I don’t think you mentioned it. How lovely!” She smiled brightly at both of them in turn.  
  
Although the evening was unlikely to turn out lovely, Harry knew that Alida’s presence would help. He placed a comforting hand on Cedric’s back before shouldering what remained of the luggage, and together the three of them left the airport. To Harry, it felt like finally stepping off of a long flight and being back on solid ground.


End file.
